The Demon Initiative
by Wings Of Sanguine
Summary: On a trip to the museum, Sam and Dean meet two very interesting individuals recognized as Captain America and his friend Bucky. After getting into a fight, Natasha Romanoff swoops in to tell the hunters that they need their help- before a certain demon gets to Bucky and all hell breaks loose- literally. Post Winter Soldier. (DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SPN OR CAPTAIN AMERICA)
1. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester slid through the metal detectors with ease, his brother Dean following close behind. Searching the crowds, Sam lead Dean to follow him over to a bench, a display of museum and travel brochures residing next it. Grateful, Dean plopped himself down on the cool marble, watching as Sam pulled a few brochures out of the case, scanning them quickly.

"Why exactly did you drag me here again?" Dean asked with exasperation, "I mean, the exhibit is going to be here forever, the news said so themselves. Sam scoffed.

"Since when did you watch the news?" he joked, "last I checked it was all porn all the time." Dean shook his head.

"Just because I appreciate women like you appreciate the news does not make it porn, Sammy," Dean tried defending himself, but it was no use- Sam was right. He was always watching when he could, especially the one porno movie about the Spanish chick with tacos. Sam shrugged.

"Whatever, man," he said, "besides, the Smithsonian Institute is way better than any porno flick. Trust me." Dean rolled his eyes with a groan.

"That's what you said when Gabriel trapped us in a bunch of wonky T.V. shows, remember?" Dean reminded his little brother, the events flying through his brain. The worst part about it was that Sammy and been turned into the Impala for a good hour or two, and it was something he did not want to happen again.

"Okay, that was one time," Sam said as he joined his brother on the bench, "and I swear to God-" Dean raised a hand, cutting his little brother off right there.

"Whatever, dude," he said, "it happened. It;s done. Now why am i here again?" Sam groaned, and Dean couldn't help but notice how the sunlight caught strands of Sammy's hair, bringing out the brown color. It made Dean a little self-conscious of his own hair, but he didn't really care because he always got compliments on his eyes.

"Do you remember those comic books?" Sam asked, making Dean crack a smile. he knew for a fact that Sam did not read comic books, only those law books or really long novels once in a while.

"Which ones?" he asked.

"The ones about that dude who survived World War Two-"

"You mean Captain America?" Dean interjected. Sam nodded, bending the flimsy brochures in his hand.

"Yeah, anyway, get this," Sam said, and Dean knew he was in for a shocker. Once Sam started something with the words 'get this; he knew his life was about to be turned upside down. Clearing his throat, he watched as two men entered the building, one wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt over a pair of gray sweatpants. His blond hair was cut short, and Dean had to admit- the guy was pretty handsome. Of course, it was more than he could say for the guy's friend. His hair was a tangled brown mess, somewhat greasy and stringy looking. His face was cast down, so he couldn't really get a good look at his eyes. He walked a bit awkwardly too- as if his left side was bogged down by something heavy- probably something he was carrying, a bulky black sweatshirt hanging on his muscular frame.

"Dean," Sam's voice cut off his trance, "what are you doing?"

"Hmm?" Dean replied, turning his attention back to his brother.

"Those guys?" Sam said, "I saw you staring at them." Dean shook his head, earning a laugh from his little brother.

"Whatever, man, " Sam sighed, "but anyway, we should probably head to the exhibit."

"Again, why am I going to this thing?" Dean complained for the third time. Sam simply scoffed, getting up and beginning to walk towards the entrance of the exhibition. Following, Dean grumbled under his breath, annoyed that there were so many people.

As they neared the entrance, Dean noticed a large sign hanging by the door. Nudging Sammy, he pointed, "Look at that."

On a five foot high board was a picture of a man wearing a blue costume, a slew of red and white stripes on the chest. A white 'A' was on the forehead, and the hood pulled down just enough o cover his eyes, with two holes to see out of. Dean scanned the blocky white lettering underneath.

"The Captain America Exhibition," he read aloud, "huh. What do you think they have, Sammich?" Sam rolled his eyes. He hated when Dean gave him little nicknames now and again.

"One, don't call me that," he said, "and two, its probably about the comic books or something." Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother, "This is what you dragged me here for?" Sam gave him a sly grin.

"Well, yeah," Sam explained, "I mean, you read the comics all the time as a kid, so I assumed you might enjoy it. And there's something else, but I figure that can wait until we see 'em." Dean chuckled uncomfortably.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said, following Sam through the door.

"You'll see," Sam hinted, "but I'll warn you now, it;s really freaky." Dean shrugged.

"After everything we've done? Nothing can be that freaky anymore."

"Whatever, man," Sam said, "lt.'s just get through the exhibit, okay?"

Dean was silent as they began walking through the dimly lit hall, the walls decorated with American flag designs. Black writing on the wall gave a small introduction on Steve Rogers, better known to the public as Captain America, the First Avenger. Sam glanced at his brother, the absolutely mesmerized look on his face as they kept walking, and the room opened up into a cavernous space with plaques and glass display cases.

"Whoa," Dean murmured, blinking in surprise as he and Sam approached the far wall. Sitting on a mannequin was a blue suit- _Just like the one on the poster_, Dean thought, flashing back to the image. Next to the suit was a shield, battered and worn out. The metal was faded and dented in some areas. Turning to his brother, Dean said, "This isn't happening."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, confused.

"I mean that all of this must be fake," Dean elaborated, "the costume, the shield-"

"Do you mean to tell me that you refuse to believe that the comics you read as a kid might actually be real?" Sam suggested. Dean nodded, unable to word his explanation.

"Well… yeah!" Dean finally sputtered out.

"Come on," Sam said, "it happened to us- the books, the show-"

"Don't even remind me," Dean shuddered. That had not been a good experience- especially having to deal with Chuck, the lame dude who was writing the books.

"It's a possibility, Dean," Sam said, "besides-" he flipped open the brochure made specifically for he event, "- it says that it really happened, that S.H.I.E.L.D. is real, everyone in the comics you read as a kid is-"

"Yeah, yeah!" Dean cut him off, annoyed, "it's real, whatever!" Sam opened his mouth to say something, instead focusing over Dean's shoulder. Jutting his chin in that direction, he said, "Whoa," Dean watched with confusion as Sam suddenly walked over to it, eyes trailing the wall almost excitedly.

"What?" Dean asked grumpily. Sam jutted his chin at the wall they stood before. On it hung a black plaque, white writing etched into the smooth marbled surface.

"I didn't think they would have this here," said a voice- but it wasn't Sam, Dean realized. It had come from his left, and Sam was standing on his right. _So who-?_ Dean thought, turning to face the voice, jumping hen he saw the guy from before standing next to him.

"Shit, man," Dean hissed, jumping slightly, "didn't see you there." The man turned to face him, breaking into a smile.

"It's alright, really," the man said, running a hand through his blond hair. Nodding, Dean went back to looking at the play with Sam, who was busy reading the words intensely, eyes squinting shut to get a better look if possible.

Dean sighed, trying to turn his attention back to his brother, "So, Sammy, what does this have to do with Captain America?" As soon as eh question left his lips, he swore he could see the man chuckle out of the corner of his eye. Sam was oblivious to the man, enraptured in the plaque.

"Dean, this is his best friend," Sam said simply.

"And?" Dean prompted, keeping an eye on the stranger. Something seemed vaguely familiar to him for some weird reason…. He shook off the feeling, trying to listen to his brother ramble on about how Captan America had met the man.

"You read the comics, Dean," Sam pointed out, "just saying!" Nodding, Dean licked his lips, letting his eyes scan the plaque.

"Come on," said the stranger, making Dean look at him, "we should probably get going to the next part."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked as the man turned around, and Dean finally noticed the man's friend, the one with the brown hair. Now that he was up close, he saw it was messier than he and thought- reaching his shoulders, with a light sheen of grease in it. Sam had noticed as well, nodding in their direction, "Oh, sorry about my brother-"

"It's okay, son, really," the blond one said, making the brothers share confused looks. He didn't look any older then twenty-five and yet he spoke like a grandpa.

"Anyway," the man nodded at the, then stuck out his hand, "I'm Steve." Sam reached over his brother to take the man's hand.

"Uh, Sam Winchester," Sam introduced himself, "and this is my brother Dean." Steve nodded, gesturing to his friend, "Sorry for being rude. This is my friend Bucky." Bucky merely nodded at them, his eyes full of murderous intensity that sent a chill up Dean's spine. Dean let his eyes tap back to the plaque. The white lettering at the top said "Bucky Barnes." The man's biography was written underneath, but the lettering was so small Dean chose to ignore it.

"Anyway," Steve said, breaking the awkward silence, "I guess we should get going to the next part of the exhibit." Nodding, Sam exchanged good-byes. Bucky was still silent, and his eyes widened once he and Steve turned around.

A little boy looking to be no older than ten was staring up at them in shock. He wore a blue t-shirt with a shield printed on the front- _Captain America's shield_, Dean realized. Dean stared back at the kid.

"What are you looking at, eh?" Dean asked. The boy ignored him, and Dean noticed that the child wasn't looking at him at all, but the man next to him- Steve. Giving Dean a sideways glance, Steve looked back at the kid with a smile, and raised a finger to his lips.

"What the…?" Dean mumbled, watching as Steve then nodded at him, ushering Bucky towards the next part of the exhibit. The kid was still staring at Steve in awe, only moving once Steve and Bucky had disappeared into another room. Sam was still reading the description, nudging Dean's arm, "Look at this." Dean let his eyes fall on the plaque, following Sam's finger. Where he as pointing was a black and white photo- a close-up of Captain America's best friend.

"It says that he was the only one out of the Howling Commandos to give his life for their cause," Sam explained, pulling Dean out of his trance. But Dean ignored him, looking back to where Steve and Bucky had gone. Tugging at Sam's sleeve, he said, "Come on, kiddo."

"Where are we going?" Sam asked as he followed obediently, puling himself away reluctantly from the biography of Bucky Barnes.

"The next part of the exhibit, duh," Dean said, although he really just wanted to get another glimpse at Steve and Bucky if they were still there. Just to be sure, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the next room, it was pitch black, save for a bright white emanating from the far wall. Staring at the floor, Dean nearly tripped as he walked in, Sammy doing almost the same thing. A they navigated, Dean looked up momentarily to search the crowd, but since there were only benches, he had a nice view of the back of everyone's head. Lifting a finger, he said to Sam, "Let's sit there."

"Why?" Sam said, trying to squint in the darkness, but there was no use.

"Just sit there, 'kay?" Dean said, making his way over. _Now I can get another good look_, Dean thought, focusing on the two men sitting in front- Steve and Bucky. Sam followed reluctantly, plopping himself down once Dean slid onto the bench, a woman complaining immediately that Sam was too tall and she couldn't see the screen. A simple glare from Dean shut her up.

"A movie, Dean?" Sam asked incredulously, streaks of black and white decorating the wall before the film started, depicting soldiers in trenches, planes flying over a vast expanse of land, as well as the occasional explosion. After watching a few seconds of Hitler commanding Nazi troops, the video cut to an American troop, at least a dozen men squished onto the screen.

"I didn't think you'd be the type for historical documentaries, Dean," Sam said as they watched. A young man looking to be in his twenties was directing a few soldiers, a man with a camera momentarily flaying the moments. There was a sudden pause as another man approached him, and the two stopped, giving one another a bear hug as the camera man took a picture.

"Look, Bucky," Dean could hear Steve say, "do you remember that time?" Bucky was silent, and Dean shot him a quick sideways glance. A look of complete awe was on his face, a sad glint in his eye. _What does he mean by that?_ Dean thought, keeping a close eye on Bucky.

Bucky shook his head slowly, biting his lip, "No. I don't remember." Steve sighed heavily- even after he had rescued Bucky from HYDRA, it was still difficult to re-teach him about the past. The video had cut to an action sequence, depicting the battles of the war, how the men were piled in trenches dug deep into the ground. Sam watched as there was a jump to two men- the same two that and been depicted earlier getting their picture taken, he realized.

"Were these two, I dunno, the Generals of the troop? The leaders, you think?" Sam asked his brother, but Dean was now looking from the screen to the two men hey sat next to, scrutinizing them painfully. Sam rolled his eyes as he jabbed Dean in the ribs with an elbow.

"What are you doing?" he hissed at his brother.

"Dude, you're never gonna believe this-" Dean began with a shake of his head. Sam saw Dean give Steve and Bucky a sideways glance. People were now getting up, the lights having been tuned back on momentarily as people walked in and out of the room, moving on to the next part of the exhibit. Dean jumped as he saw Bucky's eyes widen, as if seeing them for the first time.

"What a coincidence!" Steve said, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt as the four of them stood up. Sam nodded, giving them a polite smile. Dean was still staring, eyes narrowed at them suspiciously.

"Uh, Steve, right?" Sam asked, and the blond man nodded. Sam grinned, jabbing his thumb at the wall where the video had just played, "What did you think, about, uh, about the video?" He couldn't help but notice nostalgia suddenly flood the man's eyes, and suddenly Dean's suspicious looks made sense.

It was possible that Steve could have been in the video. _But that means he would have to have been an actor, to re-enact whatever had happened back then,_ Sam thought, watching as Steve blinked, the nostalgic look now gone as quickly as it had come. Bucky was silent, his eyes a mix of what seemed like emptiness and…. was it fear? Sam couldn't tell.

"It was good, yeah," Steve answered with a short nod, then turning to Bucky, "what did you think about it, Bucky?" Sam and Dean turned their attention to Bucky, who simply shrugged.

"Yeah," he said, not really answering the question. But Sam guessed that that was the most anyone could ever get out of him at the moment. Clearing his throat, Dean clapped his hands, piping up, "So, uh, just curious, are you a fan of the comics?"

"Dean," Sam groaned, and Dean ignored Sam's eye-roll as he shrugged, adding, "I mean, I assume that's why most people are here, you know?" Steve shrugged, pulling his baseball cap off his head, fixing his blond hair.

"I dunno," he said, "I mean, I've borrowed some from Agent Coulson, but they aren't very accurate, you know?" Dean was taken aback- who the heck was Agent Coulson?!

"Excuse me?" he said.

"They aren't very accurate," Steve repeated, "I mean, yes, some of it is on-point, but other parts are just so far-fetched in my opinion-" Dean let out a chuckle- he couldn't believe what he was hearing!

"What, so are you some sort of Captain America expert?" he scoffed with a toothy grin. Sam grunted- most likely out of annoyance, but Dean ignored him. _Good god, he looks so much like the guy in the video_, the hunter thought, keeping his eyes on the man.

"I'm sorry about my brother," Sam cut in, "he can get a little excitable-"

"No, it's okay- Sam, was it? It's fine, really- happens quite often, I can assure you," Steve gave him a nod of approval, which made Dean even more curious- it had to be true, if he was saying things like this.

"Listen buster-" Dean pointed a finger at Steve's chest.

"First off, my name is Steve," Steve corrected him, "and second of all, its rude to point." Sam couldn't help but laugh- this guy was on his good side, if he was able to tell Dean off over something as trivial as pointing at someone.

"Whatever, Steve," Dean nearly spat the name out, "now answer my question."

Bucky sent Sam a worried look, his grey-blue eyes widening with despair. _That must be a cry for help_, Sam thought with a shrug, sending Bucky a nod to tell him that he understood. It was time to break the two men apart. Placing a hand on Dean's shoulder, Sam tried to pull him back, "Dean, we should probably go-"

"You want to know why I know so much?" Steve prompted. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, I do," he countered, jabbing his thumb onto Steve's chest. Steve gave him an exasperated look, and Sam couldn't help but notice as Bucky tried shaking his shoulder gently, the way his fingers gripped his friend's sweatshirt for dear life.

"Well, well, well," said a woman, making the four men jump. Turning, they found a slender woman in a yellow top and black jeans, the seams of an olive green jacket pulling at her arms as she crossed them over her chest.

"Natasha," Steve inclined his head anther in greeting. Her short red hair swayed as she nodded back at him.

"Captain," she replied with a sly grin, then to Bucky, "Lieutenant." Bucky was silent, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his lips, but not enough o be considered an actual smile. Dean and Sam shared a wide-eyed look.

"So, are these two men bothering you?" she asked, jutting her chin at Sam and Dean. Steve looked at Bucky before shaking his head, saying, "No, not at all, Corporal." He sent the woman a quick wink- he may as well play along, just for the heck of it.

"C-Corporal?" Dean stammered out as he stared at Natasha. There was absolutely no ways woman as beautiful as her- and he had seen some fairly gorgeous women in his lifetime- was in the army. But he had to admit, out of all the women he's been with, this Natasha woman standing in front of him had to take the cake. Just her lips alone was enough to distract Dean from the dispute he had been having moments earlier, with the full shape and glossy exterior.

"So sorry, Corporal," Sam said, shifting uncomfortably, "my brother was just being stupid-"

"Are you sure these men aren't bothering you, sir?" Natasha said, her eye scanning them u and down, an x-ray looking for a broken bone- _She may be looking of a bone to break_, Dean thought a she sized them up.

"Again, Corporal, no," Steve said. Natasha shrugged, clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

"I don't know," she said, "I mean, brushy-top here looks like he could use a good ass-whooping. Gigantor, not so much." Dean gulped- she definitely meant business, that was for sure. Just the way she had her arms crossed meant she was no-nonsense, her eyes burning into Dean until he thought he may as well have been invisible- she could probably see right through him. Steve placed a hand on her shoulder, "It's alright, Natasha, really. We were just leaving." Natsha bit her lip, keeping her eyes on the brothers as she nodded, tapping her foot against the floor.

"I guess it's a good thing that you're leaving," she said, looking staright at the brothers, "because these two are leaving as well." Dean scoffed- sure, she was a Corporal, but he wasn't going anywhere.

"No, Sammy and I are staying, thank you very much," he said. Natasha cocked her head, her red hair swaying in her face as she did so. She grinned, sending a shiver down Sam's spine- This is not gonna be good, he thought, as she showed two rows of perfectly straight teeth, all blinding white as if made by an angel's touch.

"That was not a suggestion, Dean," she hissed his name, "and I'm wearing heels. So if you want Jill to keep visiting the Down Under, I suggest you cooperate. Now you two are coming with us." Sam exchanged a look with his brother, who's hand moved absentmindedly to protect his crotch. Bucky was still silent, eyes wide at Natasha's threat. Smiling, she looked at each of the four men, beckoning them to follow.

"Now that we have formalities out of the way," she said, tossing Steve a pair of keys, "you drive." Steve raised an eyebrow in question, keys clinking as he let them dangle from his finger.

"Drive?" Steve asked.

"Yes, drive," Natasha confirmed, "now come on. Director Fury does not like to be kept waiting."


	3. Chapter 3

As the entered the parking lot of the museum, Dean and Sam squinted as the sun hit their faces, Bucky himself keeping his head down- and nearly walked right into a car that was about to drive out of the parking spot next to the door. Natasha grabbed him swiftly, nodding at the driver who proceeded to yell, "Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" Natasha lifted a hand at the driver.

"Our apologies, sir!" she called, and the driver went back to grumbling as he then drove off, the five of them safely out of harm's way. Dean watched as the car peeled away- a nice convertible, probably three years old. Having built the Impala from scratch when it had been destroyed, Dean always found himself admiring any car he could get his eyes on.

"So-" Dean cleared his throat, stopping short when Natasha directed Steve towards a black car- Dean's black car, to be precise. The Impala was sitting in the sun, the meta glinting menacingly out in the open. Dean opened his mouth, letting out an almost strangled cry, "What the hell are you three doing?" Steve stopped short, holding the keys to the car in question. Natasha had Bucky by the arm, having started t pull him towards the car, her hand almost on the door.

"We're driving back to S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha said matter-of-factly, "what else does it look like?" A short burst of wind decided to pass by, playing with the ends of Natasha's hair, stoning Dean's cheeks. He noticed Bucky's neck twitch slightly, Natasha's fingers digging into the cloth of his sweatshirt.

"Not in my baby you aren't," Dean shook his head, cowboy boots crunching gravel as he approached the car. Sam shifted in his shoes, biting his lip- Dean was always protective of his car, no matter what. Sometimes it came to be a bit of a problem, especially when thy were in a group that included people other than themselves.

"Dean, it's just one time," Sam sighed, "just let her drive, okay?" Steve stood by the driver's for patiently, the keys rattling as he decided to swing them on hist inter in small tight circles.

"No, Sammy," Den shook his head, pursing his lips, "if we go in my car, I drive." Natasha rolled her eyes, and Sam swore her grip on Bucky's arm tightened, almost ripping at the sleeve of his clothes. Bucky said nothing though, just silent as he stared uncomfortably at his feet, the ground as he toes pebbles with his combat boots.

"Okay, pal," Natasha answered, "I don't have time for this- the Captain and Lieutenant don't have time for this. get in the car." Dean crossed his arms.

"You know," he said, ambling over to Steve, plucking the keys from his fingers, "you guys probably aren't even in the army. or all we know, you could be kidnappers." Natasha let ut a short clipped laugh, startling Bucky as she ushered him to the car. The handled was hot against his skin as Dean opened the door, sliding comfortably in the driver's seat, almost crying with joy when he heard the sweet click of his seatbelt buckle.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean began, clearing his throat he heard the passenger door open, "remember the rule about the music-"

"What rule?" came Natasha's voice, and Dean turned to find her strapping herself into the passenger seat. Raising an eyebrow, he saw his brother and the other two crowd themselves into the back, the bulk of Bucky and Steve's muscles combined taking up a good portion of the room. Shaking this head, Dean clicked his tongue, "Why are you sitting in the front?"

"Why are you driving?" she retorted haughtily, "just drive." Dean opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Sam piped up, "Dean, we don't have time for this. Just drive." Clamping his mouth shut, Dean let his hands run over the steering wheel, the engine roaring to life as he pulled out of the lot and onto the road.

AC/DC's TNT blaring on the radio, the ride was silent until halfway down the highway, until it occurred to Dean that he had no idea where he was going. He hadn't bothered getting what the acronym for S.H.I.E.L.D. meant, nor the directions to said facilities. _Crap_, he thought, feeling sweat bead on his forehead.

"What's wrong?" Natasha's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling his attention back to the blurring lights and signs on the road.

"Where exactly am i going?" he asked reluctantly, his voice getting softer with each word. Sam chuckled, a mocking sound that Dean was sure would haunt him once this drive was over. Even if he wasn't smart when it came to research, Dean was an expert on driving anywhere in the country. He knew Sam was going to hang this one over his head for quite a while. Natasha pointed straight down the highway, and Dean noted her nails were painted a dark crimson color- _Almost the color of blood_, he thought, momentarily distracted before her silky voice bought him back to reality.

"Just go straight until i say to turn," she said, letting her hand fall to the dashboard. Staring in the rearview mirror, both the driver and passenger got a good view of the backseat- three extremely muscled and somewhat tall men were crammed together, Sam's legs looking so cramped that his knees were touching his chin, his arms wrapped round his legs in a tight hug.

"You okay back there, boys?" Natasha chuckled. Steve grinned half-heartedly.

"Never been better!" he joked. Natasha jutted her chin at Sam in the mirror.

"What about you, Jolly Green Giant?" Dean sent her a glare.

"Giving Sam annoying nicknames is my job, thank you very much," he said angrily. Natsha winked at him.

"Come on, brushy-top," she sighed, "a girl's gotta have fun now and again, right?" Clearing her throat, she stared back at the mirror, "So how;s it hanging back there?"

"F-fine," Sam managed, although he was a bit to afraid to admit that he was anything but. Natasha could probably tell anyway, what with the way he was trying to crowd himself against the window, keeping an eyes on the ever so silent Bucky Barnes. _He's really starting to creep me out…._ Sam thought, letting his eyes fall on the bulk in his sweatshirt, where he assumed he would have an arm- why was it so bulky in the first place anyway?

"Oh- and Bucky?" Natasha's voice suddenly went somewhat cold, a stern tinge to it. Bucky lifted his head reluctantly, strands of brown hair in his eyes. Natasha sen thin a thin smile, adding, "Remember what Steve and I told you." He nodded.

"There's no need to be so harsh, Natasha-" Steve began.

"Well, Steve, if he's going to try and integrate himself back into society after what happened, he has to learn!" Natasha cut him off, "and I know Fury's methods are a little harsh-" Steve felt heat rush to his face as he cut her off, saying, "A little harsh?! I don't remember sticking probes on his body being categorized as 'little'."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "You know what I mean, Steve-"

"He made him watch the surveillance tapes, Natasha!" Steve exclaimed. At this, Sam let his eyes fall n the man sitting next to him, who slowly returned the gaze. There was something his eyes, Sam thought, that was…. missing, almost. They seemed glassy, empty, as if he were a zombie, not an actual human being. _I wonder…._ Sam thought, then pushed it away- he was afraid of what would happen if he asked, especially since they were in such a tight, enclosed area.

"I know, Steve!" Natasha shouted, making everyone freeze momentarily, "I know they made him watch the tapes- they did that with the Avengers as well, or do you not remember?" Steve was taken aback- those videos had been released all over the internet, so of course people had watched the battle. _But this is different_, he thought, _this is different…._

There was a few minutes of awkward silence, just AC/DC crooning over how the grass was green and girls were pretty. Clearing his throat, Sam piped up, "So, uh, Miss Romanoff?" Natasha stared at him through the mirror, turning on a smile.

"I like you already!" she said, "what's up?"

"When exactly will we get there?" Sam asked, "I mean, it seems like we've been driving for a good five, ten minutes, no?" She shrugged, letting her eyes dart to the window. Trees were a blur as they passed by. Natasha smirked- men were so impatient nowadays it was almost unbearable.

"We get there when we get there, hon," Natasha answered simply, "oh, and since I'm talking to you, do you have any single ladies in mind for the old geezer to your left?" Sam sent a cautious look to Bucky, who just stared back with a shrug. Natasha grinned, adding, "No, not the Alzheimer's patient, the other one."

"What do you mean, 'old geezer'?" Dean laughed, "the dudes look barely in their twenties." _Although_, Dean thought, _it might explain the way he spoke back in the museum…. _

"That's where you're wrong, son," Steve sighed heavily, "I'm well into the nineties." Sam's eyes bugged, Dean blinking as he tried to focus on the road- hd he said what he thought he said?

"N-nineties?!" Sam stammered in surprise. Natasha nodded, jutting her chin at Bucky.

"This one here is eighty-nine in case you were wondering."

"I'm ninety-five, Agent Romanoff," Bucky almost growled, making sweat prickle Sam's skin. Being the only sentence he had uttered this entire time, there was a sort of husky note to it, followed by a heavy, raspy sound that almost made him wheeze, as if he had just run a marathon. Natasha cocked her head, then nodded.

"Right, right," she said, "I guess I'll have to update the records at S.H.I.E.L.D. then." Now it was Bucky's turn to freak out.

"You have damned records?!" he cried in a panic, "on me?!" Steve sent Bucky a steady look, breathing slowly. Sam in the meantime tried pressing himself further into the side of the car, with no luck.

"Bucky, they have records on everyone," Steve said, "including me." The man's breath was coming in short gasps, his face turning slightly purple as each second passed until Sam was sure he would get crushed under a mountain of muscle if Bucky collapse right there and then.

"Dean, maybe you should open a window-" Sam began to suggest, but was cut off as dean suddenly threw the wheel sideways, tires screeching as they swung to the side of the road.


	4. Chapter 4

"Is everyone okay?!" Natasha cried, waving thick black smoke out of her face. After Dean swerved recklessly off the road, they had crashed into one of the gates, ending the metal barrios severely. The car itself looked to be in no damage, just the hood dented slightly.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled- _Is he outside? _Natasha thought, jumping as he thrust his hands inside the car, fingers groping wildly for any sign of life. Hesitantly, Natasha grabbed his hand, grunting as he tugged her out through the window- which thankfully, they had left open.

"I couldn't hear anyone else," Natasha panted as she turned around and grabbed for the door handle. Cars whizzed by on the road and she spat a curse as she saw what she swore was a camera, flashing as it passed by. Dean had an absolutely frantic look on his face- what the heck was she saying?!

"You mean to tell me that we're the only ones who made it?!" he yelled, clutching his temples. His head throbbed as he felt blood rush through his veins, Natasha trying to clear the smoke and search for the other three men. _God damn it, Sam!_ Dean's thoughts screamed, _don't you fucking die on me now! _Natasha's grunts of pain bought him back to reality; she was trying to rip the door clean off its hinges, the door itself ajar at an awkward angle. Squinting, dean joined her, nearly crying out with joy when he saw it.

Sam's legs were kicking, and bent at awkward angles. Two other sets of feet accompanied his, and both the hunter and agent sighed with relief.

"D-Dean?" Sam's voice warbled, "are you and Miss Romanoff okay?"

"Yeah!" Dean called back, "how bout, uh, the Lieutenant and Captain?" Natasha smirked at him, leaning nonchalantly against the car. Amidst the creaks and groans of metal trying to tear apart, there were shouts of pain and cries of agony as Dean attempted- and somewhat succeeded- in singlehandedly dragging the three men from the wreckage, his skin slick with sweat as the sun beat down on them. A truck passed by, honking its horn as it drove by.

"Jesus, what the hell happened….?" Sam groaned as he sat up on the pavement, the cement scratching the palms of his hands. Not that that was the worst injury he sustained. Looking down, he hung his head- his jeans were damp, completely soaked through to the bone…..

"You look like shit," Natasha commented, pushing stray strands of red hair out of her face as she helped Steve and Bucky sit up, brushing them off as they gathered their wits. Dean rolled his eyes.

"You could have helped with the unloading," Dean scoffed, letting his fingers rub over the amulet around his neck. A pair of horns hung from a piece of black nylon, something Sam had given to him when they were kids. Dean let it hang, his arm falling limply to his side.

"Eh, looked like you had it covered," Natasha waved his comment away as if it were a fly buzzing annoyingly in her ear, "besides, I've got my own babies to worry about." She looked over to his brother- he looked really shitty if she as going to be completely honest. His brown hair was in a tangled disarray halo around his head, and his face, neck and arms were covered with an assortment of cuts, scrapes and bruises. The plaid shirt he wore was full of tears, one of the sleeves hanging in threads off his muscular arm. _He should heal up soon_, she thought, jolting to a stop when she let her eyes trail down his body. Sam caught her staring, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Is something wrong, Miss Romanoff?" he questioned, moving to lean back on his hands. She bit her lip, stealing a quick glance at Steve- he was now standing, inspecting the damage inflicted on the car. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in, running a hand nervously through her short red hair.

"Don't move, okay?" she instructed, hiding her hands out in front of her, "just sit tight." Sam shrugged, nodding reluctantly. The look on his face told her he knew about his legs. Good, she thought with relief, that won't be a problem then….

"Bucky, calm down!"

Dean and Natasha jumped, turning to find Bucky leaning against the car, chest heaving rapidly. His hair was plastered to his face and neck, slick with sweat. Dean grimaced- the man looked absolutely exhausted, with his empty eyes and heavy bags. Cuts and bruises decorated his skin, a deep gash above his left eye, dangerously close to the corner of the eye itself.

"That has to hurt…." Dean trailed off, Bucky turning his head to mer eyes with him momentarily. Once they met eyes, Dean found himself completely frozen. Like before, they were glassy and cold, but now they just seemed tired and old, as if he was just done with everything.

And he probably was. The car crash was probably the last thin the had wanted to happen to him that day. The smoke had cleared, and Dean let out an involuntary whimper once he was able to see the real damage. Sam shook his head, licking his lips as he said, "That's gong to take forever to fix, Dean."

"You think?" Dean shot back, rubbing his eyes. Where the car had crashed into the gate the hood had been bent completely in half, hanging onto the hinges by a thread. From what he could see, everything inside- the engine, the gas, the gears- all of it was completely damaged, needing to be replaced immediately.

"What could have caused this amount of damage?" Natasha asked, the corner of her eye on Bucky as he leaned into Steve's knee, forehead connecting with the bone. Steve merely patted the man on the head, wiping sweat from his brow. Natasha shielded her eyes from the sun's glare, "Everything okay, boys?"

"Yeah, sorry," Steve apologized- more for Bucky than himself, Dean realized- "but we have a slight problem."

"And what would that be?" Natasha's heels clicked the pavement as she ambled over, crouching to get a better look at Bucky, who looked about ready to pass out, "You need something to eat or drink, sweetie," she said, placing the back of her hand on his forehead, "it's too hot." Dean shared a glance with his brother. The way they treated Bucky was so…. childish. As if it were a five year-old trapped in a grown man's body or something. Steve jumped as Bucky raised a fist, banging it loudly against the dented passenger door.

"What is he doing?" Sam asked, twisting his body to get a better look. Not being able to move his legs at the moment, he tried his best to twist his torso, pain shooting up his side as he craned his neck.

Bucky's breath came in short gasps as he opened his mouth to answer.

"My….. arm…."

"What about your arm?" Natasha asked, "I mean, it can't be as bad as Sammy- look at his legs!" Bucky shook his head, peeling his forehead off Steve's leg, thrusting his left shoulder at her.

"My….. arm…." he repeated coldly, and Dean and Sam cringed in unison, squinting against the sun as best they could.

Where his arm should have been was a stump that was cut off where the shoulder began, blood running in small rivers on his skin where it was supposed to be attached. Dean rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was hallucinating.

"Oh, shit!" Natasha's piercing shriek broke through Dean's thoughts, and he next thing he knew she was diving headfirst through the window, slithering inside like a snake through grass, "where was he sitting?!" Steve groaned, helping Bucky lean back against the car as he tried to follow. His shoulders were to broad though, the window unable to let him squeeze through.

"What happened?" Sam called from his spot, a tad mad he was unable to move.

"Um, Bucky lost his arm…." Steve said nervously, throwing an uncomfortable smile Sam's way, "it has happened before though-"

"Whoa, aha, whoa!" Dean cut him off, "you mean to say that he has a prosthetic arm?" Steve nodded. Banging erupted as Natasha was searching, groans and yells of frustration flying out the window along with a slew of curses. Dean widened his eyes- the way she was speaking, she could have probably put any pirate or sailor to shame, maybe svn truck drivers, but that was more the belching than the cursing. After a few minutes, she wriggled her way out through the window, Dean helping her hop lightly to the ground.

"Hey- what is that?" Sam asked, watching as Natasha crouched down in front of Bucky, gripping his shoulder tightly. Sun glinting brightly, she spat out another curse, tossing the item to the ground n frustration.

"B-Be…. careful with…..with that," Bucky managed to get out between clipped breathing, teeth gritted until his temples began to throb.

"I was ripped completely, Steve," the agent said shaking her head, "there's no way to get it back on unless we take him to a hospital-"

"We can't bring him there," Steve said curtly, "you know that." She nodded, momentarily forgetting the Winchesters were sitting, watching; one of them currently bleeding profusely through two broken limbs.

"The only other option is Fury," Natasha announced, gathering the object in her arms. Dean had taken a seat next to his brother, trying to bind the bones together. He remembered from seventh grade health class that if the bone wasn't set it wouldn't heal properly and you'd become deformed. Of course, Dean only paid attention in that class because the teacher was incredibly hot; ten out of ten worth banging in the janitor's closet. _But it's time to forget that,_ he told himself, yanking on the plaid fabric he tied around his brother's leg, knowing he was going to need more soon. There was too much blood to contain. Dean looked over at Bucky- the red gook was literally pouring from his arm, Steve and Natasha frantically attempting to cut it off. He let his eyes trail to the thing propped in the cook of Natasha's arm and shivered, turning his attention back to his brother.

Whatever it was, it must be pretty important.

"Do you think it was a demon?" Sam suddenly piped up.

"What?" Dean asked. Sam pursed his lips, shrugging.

"A demon, Dean," Sam repeated, "do you think it was a demon that made us crash?" Dean shook his head. All he knew was that it happened once Bucky started freaking out about some files….

"Maybe?" Dean said with uncertainty, "I mean, it could have been an animal-"

"There was no animal in the road, idiot," Sam said flatly, glaring at Dean, "it had to be a demon."

"We can figure it out once we get to headquarters," Natasha called over to them. The brothers looked over- they had managed to stop Bucky from bleeding to death, but he looked like he may as well have been better off dead. His clothes and skin were soaked with red, hanging heavily on his muscular frame like a wet rag on a clothesline.

"How exactly are we going to get there, huh?" Dean asked, "I mean, you totaled my baby- which, by the way, took me years to fix, and from scratch!" Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Fury can replace it if you want," Natasha said, "but that isn't important right now. Right now, we have to get these two to a doctor-"

"Then hop aboard!" a voice yelled, brisk and raspy. Turning, the four of them were staring at a man in a long black trench-coat, leaning casually against a black Jeep. _When did he get there….?_ Sam thought, Steve and Natasha rushing to help Bucky into the car. Blood trailed after him, splattering the cement as they struggled to help him. The man inclined his head towards Dean.

"You two coming or what?" he asked, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly across the black eyepatch tied around his head. After a few seconds of contemplating what had just happened(the man had, afar all, literally appeared out of nowhere), he managed to load his brother in the car, reluctantly leaving his baby, his prized possession crashed on the side of the road.


End file.
